Omidious
Omidious Silentdawn was the son of the High Elf Saron Silentdawn and Human Herbs vendor Heather Sheppard. Before his birth, Saron Silentdawn gave up Omidious' soul to the Burning Legion in exchange for power and servitude. Though he had no soul, Omidious still lived a prominent life. Most notably when he joined the Kirin Tor, though that soon was broken when he began delving into the dark arts. He was on the forefront of the 'Battle for the Portal' and received praise from many commanders. It was in Outland, with the help of his old childhood friend Greavious, along with the Draenei Prophet Talôs that Omidious was able to find and slay his father, returning his soul back to him. Though Prophet Talôs said that Omidious' soul was now pure, for it was never touched. Unfortunately, he also bore a warning, that if Omidious did not stop his demonic ways his soul would become corrupted like his father. = History = The Diary of Saron Silentdawn Fools… I could have never imagined that it would have ended so abruptly… I was so close, so close to my goal. I, Saron Silentdawn – high elf and true heir to the Silentdawn family. A family whom disowned me for using a single spell. Although it was against our code of conduct, it was a necessary evil, why could they not see that? I used a simple shadow spell on a trespasser, forcing him to leave our estate after he became violent, and attempted to attack my younger sister, Serian. It was the most efficient, non-lethal way to deal with the imbecile, why could they not understand? My father was furious, and expelled me from his lands. It was only my younger sister, Serian who understood. She was always a bright young girl, always respected the power of the Dark Arts though she didn’t practice them. But, that is another tale, and a road I would rather not discuss. For now, decades later, I once again find myself disowned and exiled for my beliefs. The portal was set, the spell in full motion when at my one moment of vulnerability, they struck. Blind, old fools! They could never grasp what I was creating, the magnificence of my work. Instead, they – the Archmages of Dalaran, the Kirin Tor, broke into my sanctuary and stopped the spell. Destroyed everything… They stripped me of my title, and called my work an act of Necromancy, called me a lost soul who had become corrupt by some demonic embrace. And they were right… Surprised? Well, I was as well. After I was exiled from my only home I soon found myself in Lordaeron, where a powerful Archmage named Krasus found me, and offered me a position as a student of the Kirin Tor. It was an offer that I could not refuse. And so for years I worked under the whims of those same mages. I graduated and was well on my way to becoming an Archmage. My own speciality in conjuration, was a precious and useful power to the Kirin Tor, which they held in high regard. Although I seemed to hold power beyond my previous imagining, deep down, I still craved more. I began to research vigorously, searching for a new spell, something I did not already know, something that would increase my power ten-fold! But, I found nothing, nothing that I didn’t already know. The magical laws of the Kirin Tor had limited me from exercising my full potential. They were holding me back. But no more… I decided that no longer would I stand idly by. My own power was far too great to waste. I was greater than any of the Kirin Tor could comprehend. And so, I began to experiment. It started small at first, a few extra inches on a conjured portal here, a little more use of the Arcane than necessary there. It wasn’t until more recently that I decided to push all the limitations of my insatiable thirst for power. I obtained an ancient libram of power, tainted with dark energies. From it I learned more than all the books in Dalaran could teach… Then I found it, a spell which would allow me to summon forth a demonic entity, one in which I would control. I would dream of what I could do with this power. For months I planned the spell, taking my time to make sure it was done correctly. I slowly obtained all the correct runes, relics, and magical artefacts which would act as a catalyst for the spell. Many times, I was thwarted in my efforts by Archmage Krasus. He would appear at the most dire of times, right before I was about to take an artefact, a runic stone, or something else for the spell. It was as if he had eyes everywhere. This made me exceptionally more careful. Then finally, it was ready. One night in my study, I had drawn the demonic circle on the floor, placed all the correct runes and items in their positions. Finally, I only needed one last piece of the puzzle. Blood… I dug the dagger deep into my wrist, as to make sure it would stream down without dripping. But just as the dagger punctured my skin, a hand grasped mine, and dragged me away from the circle. A demonic cry is all I could hear, it was deafening, as if a thousand tortured souls were wreaking for revenge. The ringing continued, until I began to shake my head vigorously to escape the noise. I began to lose my breath. It was then that I discovered that the demonic cry was not coming from the supposed circle, but was actually bellowing from my lungs. The demon had nearly completed its task, it wished not for me to command it, but instead for it to command me. My disappointing removal from the spell had caused much grief for the demon. Grief which I felt myself, for power, even power only attained by allowing a demon to enter my very soul, was all I have ever longed for. The screeching ended, after what felt like an eternity, but in reality, only lasted no more than a few seconds. I looked up to see several high ranking mages of the Kirin Tor surrounding me. But, how did they find out? Then one face stood out from the rest. The mysterious Krasus. I cursed myself as I watched them extinguish the demonic circle, and burn away the dark magic surrounding the items. All my work… Went up in flames… Jury of your peers… Hah! Lies and bureaucratic agendas, that is all the fair trial I received. The evidence of my crimes hung over me like a storm cloud and so execution seemed to be the only option. Until something surprising happened. Krasus stood in my defence, and disagreed. It seems that his love for life knows no bounds… For Krasus believed that it was not me who summoned the circle but was the demon within me and that I was simply a tainted lost soul who was possessed by a demon, not of my own accord. It was then I realized how much the others respected Krasus’ word, for they all began to vote in his favour. In the end, death was taken off the table. Instead, I was to be exiled to the north. Exiled… to the Alterac Mountains. I was told that if I was ever to be seen outside of the mountains, then death would be their only alternative. I said nothing as I was taken away from Dalaran, the only city I ever called home. Though, in truth I cared nothing for it really… I stabled my thoughts, and began to contemplate my next lunge for power. Cold and dark… That is the only way to describe these harsh lands. It has been months since Krasus teleported me here, and in that time I have struggled much. Food is hard to come by. Once in awhile a wolf will fall prey to the many magical traps I have set up around my camp, but that is a rare occurrence. Mostly I am forced to dine on stale conjured bread and water. Luckily, I was not entirely alone in this frozen hell. As a precaution I had placed the demonic libram into a pocket universe, one which I conjured several minutes before the failed ritual. Of course, the use of pocket universes in conjuration is still a relatively new practice, and one I have yet to master. Because of this, I could not choose when the book would re-emerge from the portal. It could be weeks, or it could be centuries. Luckily, I was not so unfortunate… As I ate my last crumbs of stale bread, the portal appeared. I grinned wickedly, my face no longer the healthy plump pink it was when I lived in Quel’Thalas. Now, it was gaunt, and pale. My eyes also taking on a more greenish-tinge. I raised my right arm, and grasped the book, and when I did, all sorrow, all disappointment disappeared. Now, I was ready to start anew… A sound like thunder… That is all I could hear. A rumbling which shook the earth below me. Quickly, I rose, and darted out of the camp. With the libram in hand I stopped in the middle of a snowy hilltop, circling my right arm in the air, as I started reading from the dark book. Demonic runes began to skitter across the snowy stone mountain, runes which grew double in size, then doubled again, until it was nearly covering the entire hilltop. I turned to face where the rumbling sound was coming from, a large grin on my face. Through the snow which fell from the sky, a face emerged. It stood at nearly 13 feet, and was filled with bloodlust. Grotesque in appearance and angry in its demeanour. I immediately identified the beast. A Yeti… The large white furred monster roared as it ran up the hilltop, its arms rising into the air as it readied to squash me under them. I stood still, completely motionless as it ran towards me. Then, just as the Yeti stepped into the demonic circle covering the ground, I raised my right arm. Bindings of demonic steel rose from the circle, grasping and clenching the large beast. The Yeti started to squirm, confused and angered; it began to beat down at the chains, as they raised it into the air. The chains emitted a purple mist, which burned the Yeti. Pools of blood mixed with oozing patches of white fur and flesh fell to the ground and in a blink of the eye, the Yeti was nothing but a smouldering husk of broken bones and lingering flesh. The chains let go of the corpse, then the hilltop shook. The sacrifice was made, so I could now communicate with the one whom I most desired to speak with. The leader of the forces I wished to join… Kil'Jaeden… A deep raspy voice spoke the name into my very mind. At first, I was taken aback, falling to my knees. I slowly raised my head, attempting to look into the small portal created at the center of the demonic circle, for a moment I thought I saw an image of a large man with a dark burning armor and large horns. Surely, I was seeing things… “What do you desire, mortal?“ the voice – Kil'Jaeden as it called himself – spoke as if a thousand men were speaking in unison. I dropped the libram, and looked directly into the portal. “I… I am Saron Silentdawn, and I have been practising in your ways for many years now… I wish to join you… I wish to help harness your power…“ I said with as much confidence as I could muster. There was silence for a moment. Then, my body was shot with a large sensation of pain, despair, and anguish. My lungs seemed to be paralyzed as well, I began gasping for air. The pain stopped abruptly, followed by a powerful demonic cackling within my mind. “You, are not strong enough… Your soul is not worth my effort...” Kil'Jaeden spoke in a mocking tone. My heart felt as if it fell to the ground, this could not be… All I have sacrificed, all I have worked for. I cannot let my one chance at power go! “No! Please my lord… I beg of you… I shall do anything, anything you ask of me!” I exclaimed, almost pleading with the demon. This was once again followed by silence, silence which seemed an eternity to me. Until finally... “Anything, you say?” the demon asked softly. “Yes my lord… Anything you desire.” I was torn between the sensation of power, and the face of death. Then, the circle began to shine a powerful black, and dark purple energies began to shine outwards, pulsating. Then, with a large and bright flash of light, a long curved dagger appeared at my knees, seething with dark demonic energies the color of violet. I looked down upon the blade as the demon spoke yet again. “With this dagger, you shall sacrifice your first born child… Their soul shall be the catalyst to your power. When your task is complete… powers beyond your imagining, shall be yours… And you shall serve me…” I looked back towards the small black portal, and then back to the dagger. The blood of my own child? My first born? I started going over the offer within my mind. Then, I grasped the daggers hilt, its power started coursing through me. I closed my eyes as I felt my insatiable thirst finally quelled. As I opened my eyes I nodded towards the portal. “I shall do what you ask… My Lord…” Birth of Omidious Arrival at Dalaran = Skills = = Stories =